


A Season for Second Chances

by Gertrude_Granger



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Multi, Mystery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-27
Updated: 2014-02-28
Packaged: 2017-12-16 09:05:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/860377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gertrude_Granger/pseuds/Gertrude_Granger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every town has its secrets, and King's Hollow is no exception. When a couple of local boys decide to play detective, they get way more than they bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Like every small town, King’s Hollow, Hampshire, was populated largely by discontented teenagers. Every day, in the classrooms and corridors of St. Augustine’s Secondary School, they talked of running away.

“When I leave for uni—”

“When I finally get out of this place—”

“—a flat in London—”

“—a house in Bristol—”

“—somewhere abroad, maybe.”

“—anywhere but here.”

The details were ever-changing, but the bottom line was always the same. It was the one thing they all had in common, from the mightiest footballer to the lowliest nerd. They were all bored out of their skulls.

Their parents shook their heads and smiled knowingly. “We said the same thing at their age,” they reminded one another. “Then we went out into the world and realized how cruel it could be. When they know more, they won’t be so eager to leave.”

They didn’t know how right they were.

* * *

“Bloody hell, Morgana, you look awful!”

Morgana glowered at Arthur over the rim of her coffee cup.

“As always, dear brother, you are the soul of tact.”

She wasn’t really offended. After all, he was right: she _did_ look awful. All the makeup in the world couldn’t hide the shadows under her eyes, and she hadn’t even attempted to tame her hair. She was too tired to care about her reputation as the most put-together girl at St. Augustine’s this morning.

Arthur plopped down next to her at the kitchen table. “The nightmares again?”

She nodded.

“Maybe you need sleeping pills or something.”

“Sleeping pills don’t prevent nightmares.” The words came out harsher than she had intended.

“There’s no need to get snippy,” said Arthur. “I’m only trying to help.”

Morgana sighed. “I know. Sorry.”

Though she was a year older than him, Arthur had always been protective of Morgana. Many a lad had gone home with a bloody nose after making her cry. She supposed it was frustrating for him, seeing her so miserable over something he couldn’t punch into submission.

“Do you remember what this one was about?” he asked.

“Flashes of it.” Morgana tried to forget her nightmares as quickly as possible, but certain images always stuck in her mind, like a splinter buried just below the skin. “There was fire, and then I was walking down a long corridor, and for some reason, I was holding a—”

Suddenly, they heard footsteps on the stairs. Morgana shut her mouth. She had avoided mentioning her nightmares in front of her father ever since she realized how much they worried him. Uther Pendragon, mayor of King’s Hollow, had enough to worry about.

“Morning, Dad,” Arthur said when Uther entered the kitchen. “Off to do important, mayoral things already?”

Uther barely glanced up from his Blackberry. “I just got a call from your uncle.” Agravaine, Arthur and Morgana’s uncle, was the town’s chief constable. “Another young woman has gone missing.”

Morgana’s own problems were instantly thrust out of her mind.

“Who?” she asked.

“Olivia Weston,” said Uther. “Do you know her?”

Morgana shook her head. The name didn’t ring a bell, though in a town as small as King’s Hollow, it was almost certain they had crossed paths at some point.

“That’s the second missing person this month, isn’t it?” she said. “Do you think there’s a connection?”

“There could be.” Uther looked nearly as tired as she felt. “Both women were last seen on Asher Road, just outside of town.”

Morgana shuddered. She took that very road every time she drove up to London for a day of shopping.

“Is there anything we can do?” Arthur asked.

“Stay away from Asher Road,” Uther said grimly.

Arthur scoffed at this. “ _I’m_ not going to go missing. I don’t exactly fit the profile, do I?”

“No, but your sister does.” Uther frowned as he looked at Morgana properly for the first time. “Darling, are you all right? You look ill.”

Morgana smiled. No matter how much his job demanded of him, her father always dropped everything when she needed him.

“I’m fine,” she told him. “Just tired.”

“You’re not having nightmares again, are you?” Uther looked more alarmed than he had about the missing women.

“Yes, but it’s no big deal. Really.”

“I’m making you an appointment with Dr. Bellamy,” said Uther, tapping away at his Blackberry.

Morgana started to protest, but he was already out the door.

“I’m great, Dad,” Arthur said to the empty space where their father had been standing a moment before. “Thanks for asking.”

Morgana ruffled his hair. “Don’t feel bad. He only noticed me because I look like hell.”

“I know.” Arthur sighed. “I suppose that’s the price I pay for being the pretty one.”

* * *

“Bloody hell, Gwen, you look gorgeous!”

It was lucky no one else was within earshot. Half the town assumed Merlin was in love with Gwen, and most of the other half thought he was gay. He wasn’t helping himself in either case with that outburst.

“Oh, go on!” Gwen said with a wave of her hand. But the twinkle in her eye said she knew how good she looked. She was wearing a short, pink dress that wouldn’t have looked out of place on the cover of a fashion magazine. A matching headband kept her dark curls out of her face, which was made up more carefully than usual. Even Morgana Pendragon would approve.

“So what’s the occasion?” Merlin asked as they began the walk to school. Gwen wasn’t the type to get dressed up for no particular reason.

“It’s the twenty-second of April,” she said, as if that explained everything. And, in fact, it did jog Merlin’s memory.

“Of course,” he groaned. “Your anniversary. Has it really been one year?”

He could remember it as clearly as yesterday: Lancelot blushing and stammering as he asked Gwen out to dinner; Gwen calm and collected as she accepted the offer, then practically hysterical once Lance was out of earshot; Gwaine teasing them both mercilessly. And yet, at the same time, it felt like the pair had been together forever. It was hard to imagine a Gwen who wasn’t in love with Lance, or a Lance who wasn’t in love with Gwen.

“How could I have forgotten the day my best friend abandoned me in Singles Land?” said Merlin.

“Oh, please!” Gwen laughed. “You could join me in Coupledom any time you wanted.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. It was sort of true; he wasn’t oblivious to the way certain girls looked at him. But after a year of watching Gwen and Lance, Merlin thought he had a good idea what love looked like, and he knew he’d never experienced anything close to it. Until he did, dating seemed pointless. He’d resigned himself to staying single for as long as he stayed in King’s Hollow.

“At least Gwaine hasn’t forsaken me,” he said. “Where is he, anyway?” Gwaine was usually waiting on Gwen’s front porch when Merlin got there in the morning. The three of them had been walking to class together since primary school.

“Cutting class again, I expect,” said Gwen, frowning. “We really need to have a talk with that boy.”

“We’re not his parents, Gwen.”

“We might as well be.”

It was true. Gwaine’s father was long dead, and his grief-stricken mother had become a recluse, leaving her son to wander around King’s Hollow like a Dickensian street urchin. Every so often, a teacher or a friend’s parent would take an interest in Gwaine’s wellbeing, but for the most part, it was up to Merlin and Gwen to keep him in line.

Gwen pulled out her mobile, but Merlin gently took it away from her.

“Let’s not worry about Gwaine today,” he said. “This is your day. Let’s just go to school so that you and Lance can make goo-goo eyes at each other, and I can make gagging noises behind your back.”

Gwen chuckled. “Merlin, you are wise beyond your years.”

* * *

It was the kind of day people write poetry about: sun shining, roses blooming, rabbits frolicking. Spring had finally come to King’s Hollow. It was a day made for football and swimming and driving with the top down, but Arthur was doing none of those things, because he was stuck in school. Sometimes, life just wasn’t fair.

His only consolation was being allowed to eat lunch in the school courtyard. When the twelve o’clock bell finally rang, he didn’t even stop to look for his friends. They would know where to find him. Sure enough, Leon, Percival, and Lancelot were waiting for him by the front entrance.

“I think I’m going to sit with Gwen today,” said Lance, scanning the crowd.

“Ditching us again?” Percival shook his head. “That’s not on. Bros before hos, man!”

“Don’t call my girlfriend a ho!”

“It’s just an expression! Don’t get your knickers in a twist!”

They went through this every day at lunchtime. Sometimes Lance sat with them, but more often, he went off with his girlfriend, Guinevere, and her weird friends. The others, only half-joking, insisted that this was a deep betrayal. Arthur played along, but he didn’t really blame Lance. If someone looked at him the way Guinevere looked at Lance, he’d probably forget everyone else, too.

“Whatever,” he said as Lance walked off. “Let’s claim a table before all the good ones are taken.”

Lunch wasn’t even halfway over before Arthur started getting restless. Sitting in the courtyard was better than sitting in a classroom, but it was still just sitting.

“Here’s an idea,” said Percival. He opened his rucksack and pulled out a football. “Let’s get some practice in before the bell.”

Arthur declared this to be the best idea he’d heard all day. It was the perfect excuse to burn off some energy without getting themselves into trouble. Plus, it allowed Arthur to do what he did best: show off.

“I bet I can get the ball past that tree.” He pointed to an oak on the edge of the school grounds.

“I’ve got a tenner says you can’t,” Percival replied. That was all the encouragement Arthur needed.

“Heads up!”

The ball soared through the air, straight towards the oak. Arthur was already planning what to do with Percival’s tenner when Tyr Seward stood up at exactly the wrong moment. The ball hit him square in the back of his head and bounced sideways, landing in Lucy Miller’s spaghetti.

Arthur swore loudly. He didn’t need the ten pounds, of course, but he hated losing anything.

“Sorry!” Tyr called. He was wincing, but from embarrassment rather than pain; the blow hardly seemed to have hurt him at all.

“Oh, don’t apologize!” Arthur called back. “It was my fault. After all, I shouted, _‘Heads up!’_ Then you _literally put your head up._ Really, I should have seen that coming.”

Tyr blushed as quite a few onlookers snickered.

Arthur picked up the football and held it out in front of him. Marinara sauce dripped onto the grass.

“You’ve ruined Lucy’s lunch as well.”

“It’s all right!” said Lucy, but Arthur ignored her.

“I think you should give her _your_ lunch, Seward. After all, you can afford to go without for once.” He looked pointedly at Tyr’s considerable belly.

“That’s enough, Pendragon.”

Arthur whipped his head around. Merlin Ealdor, one of Guinevere’s weird friends, had followed him across the courtyard.

“Excuse me?”

Arthur only knew Merlin in a vague way. Despite the overlap in their social circles, he couldn’t remember ever speaking to him outside of class. Certainly, Arthur had never done anything that explained why Merlin was looking at him now with such contempt.

“Leave Tyr alone,” said Merlin. “It’s not his fault you decided this was a good time and place to kick a football around.”

“This doesn’t concern you, Ealdor.”

“And what Tyr eats doesn’t concern you. Or is only the great Arthur Pendragon allowed to order people around?”

Arthur was at a loss for words. No one had ever talked to him like this.

“You have a problem with the way I treat people?” he asked finally.

“Not very fast on the uptake, are you?”

Everyone was staring now. Arthur groaned internally. In a town as small as King’s Hollow, gossip spread quickly and died down slowly. He needed to do something, before they all went home and told their families how this dorky know-it-all made a fool out of him.

Slowly, he stepped forward, until he and Merlin were almost nose-to-nose.

“You have guts, Ealdor,” he said quietly. “I’ll give you that.”

“You have a bit of a gut yourself,” said Merlin. “Bit hypocritical, really, making fun of Tyr’s weight.”

That’s when things got a bit out of hand.

* * *

Geoffrey Monmouth had been headmaster at St. Augustine’s for as long as anyone could remember. Why he had chosen such a profession, Merlin couldn’t imagine, because he clearly hated dealing with students. Merlin could count the number of times he’d seen the man leave his office on one hand. Before today, he’d never actually spoken to him.

He wished more than anything that that was still the case.

“Absolutely outrageous!” This seemed to be Monmouth’s favorite phrase. “Mr. Ealdor, you’re a prefect! And Mr. Pendragon, your father is the mayor!”

“You don’t say,” Arthur muttered. Fortunately, Monmouth didn’t seem to hear him.

“You boys are leaders!” he continued. “You should be setting an example!”

“I was trying to set an example, sir,” Merlin said, doing his best to stay calm. “Arthur was bullying Tyr Seward. All I did was stand up to him.”

“I wasn’t bullying anyone!” said Arthur. “I was just joking around!”

“You humiliated him in front of half the school, then you tried to steal his lunch!”

“That is such an exaggeration!”

“Enough!” Monmouth slammed his fist on the desk. “I don’t care what he did to provoke you, Mr. Ealdor. St. Augustine’s has a zero-tolerance policy when it comes to physical violence. I’m afraid I’m going to have to suspend you both for a fortnight.”

 _Suspension._ Merlin’s stomach clenched. He hadn’t realized it was that serious. What would Gaius say? And—oh, God—how would he get into a decent university with that on his record?

He knew he’d acted like a fool, but he couldn’t help it. For years, he’d watched Arthur Pendragon walk around King’s Hollow like he owned the place, always getting his way, never facing real consequences for anything. When he had a go at poor, dopey Tyr Seward, Merlin had finally snapped. 

“Sir, I’m captain of the football team!” said Arthur. “I can’t miss two weeks of practice!”

“Really, Arthur,” said a new voice. “Is that your top priority?”

Uther Pendragon was standing in the doorway.

“Lord Mayor!” Monmouth jumped to his feet. “I hate to see you under these circumstances, but—”

“I must apologize for my son, headmaster,” Uther cut in. “I was appalled to receive your call. However, I think, given the circumstances, suspension is a bit much, isn’t it?”

Monmouth shifted uncomfortably. “Sir, the boys were fist-fighting on school grounds during school hours. We take that very seriously.”

“As do I,” said Uther. “But, as you yourself said, both Arthur and Mr. Ealdor have been model students up till this point. Surely, that counts for something.”

Actually, Monmouth had said that _Merlin_ was a model student. Arthur just had a powerful father. But Merlin didn’t point this out, as it looked like Uther’s clout might help them both now.

“Of course,” said Monmouth. “Yes, a very good point, Lord Mayor. But, er, nevertheless…What would you have me do?” There was a hint of pleading in his voice.

“I think a lighter—but still severe—sentence is in order,” said Uther. “Detention, perhaps? Or better yet, community service. I seem to remember you lamenting the state of the school library at the last council meeting. Perhaps the boys could reorganize it?”

“An excellent idea, Lord Mayor!” said Monmouth, visibly relieved. He turned back to Arthur and Merlin.

“Starting tomorrow, you boys will report to the library immediately after class every day. You will stay for…oh, let’s say two hours every day, until the task is complete. I imagine it will take you at least a fortnight.”

Two weeks working in close proximity with Arthur Pendragon. It sounded like torture, but Merlin was too relieved at avoiding a giant black mark on his permanent record to care.

“Yes, headmaster!” he said. “Thank you, sir.”

He tried to tell Uther Pendragon “thank you” with his eyes, but the mayor seemed to be locked in a staring contest with his son.

“If that’s all, headmaster, then perhaps the boys should return to class now,” he said.

“Of course. Good day, Lord Mayor.”

Uther strode out of the office without so much as a goodbye to his son. Arthur looked miserable. It was almost enough to make Merlin feel bad for him. Almost.

* * *

Arthur decided it would be best to avoid his father until he’d had time to cool off. He planned the rest of his day with this in mind, but it was all for naught: Uther was waiting for him when he got home from school.

 _“Brawling_ in the school courtyard! I never would have expected this from you, Arthur.”

“Merlin started it,” Arthur said sullenly.

“The headmaster said you tried to stick the boy’s head in a toilet.”

“Only after he called me fat.”

Uther looked at his son in disbelief. “He _called you fat?_ Are you a twelve-year-old girl?”

Arthur braced himself for a round of shouting. But when his father spoke again, his voice was level. In fact, he sounded more tired than angry.

“Arthur, I don’t enjoy yelling at you,” he said. “I try to be understanding. But if you’re going to take advantage of my leniency…”

For the first time, Arthur felt a twinge of genuine guilt. It was true. People assumed that Uther was a strict disciplinarian, but if anything, he overcompensated for his natural sternness by being too indulgent. When Arthur stayed out all night or Morgana skipped class to go to a rally in London, Uther took a deep breath, counted to ten, and looked the other way. Arthur must have really crossed a line this time.

“I’m sorry, Dad,” he said. “It won’t happen again.”

“It had better not. And I don’t want to hear that you’ve been shirking detention, either.”

Arthur had nearly forgotten about the headmaster’s sentence. At the thought of the coming days cooped up in the library with Merlin, he groaned loudly.

“Try to make the best of it,” said Uther. “Merlin is a good lad, from what I’ve heard. You might even come out of this friends.”

 _And pigs might fly,_ thought Arthur.

* * *

“You said _what?”_

Gwaine fell back onto the grass, laughing.

“Oh God, why did I choose today to cut class? I’ll never forgive myself for missing the look on Pendragon’s face.”

They were in the clearing in the woods behind Merlin’s house. Gwen and Merlin had gone there after class, knowing it was Gwaine’s favorite hangout. Sure enough, they had found him there, basking in the sunlight like a lizard, completely unaware of the day’s drama.

“It’s not funny, Gwaine!” Gwen said, scowling. “Merlin could have been expelled.”

“But I wasn’t,” said Merlin. “And it is kind of funny.”

Gwen shook her head. Secretly, she was a little proud of Merlin for standing up to Arthur when no one else would. But any hint of approval on her part would encourage him to do it again, and he might not get off so easily a second time. Besides, someone had to counterbalance Gwaine’s influence.

“Mind you, he’s going to suffer enough as it is. Two weeks alone with Arthur Pendragon?” Gwaine shuddered. “I don’t envy you, mate.”

“Maybe it won’t be so bad,” said Gwen. “Lance says Arthur’s a decent bloke once you get to know him.”

“Yeah, maybe,” said Merlin, but he didn’t look convinced.

“Promise me you’ll comment on his weight every day,” said Gwaine. Merlin laughed.

Sighing, Gwen flopped onto her back in the grass. “What am I going to do with you two?”

Merlin and Gwaine lay down on either side of her. For a long time, no one spoke. They were close enough that silence didn’t have to be awkward; it was one of the things Gwen loved most about their friendship. She sighed again, but this time with contentment. Only the promise of an evening in the city with Lance could lure her away from this, and he wouldn’t be picking her up for another hour. 

Out of the blue, Merlin asked, “Do you ever get the feeling there’s something wrong with the world?”

Gwen furrowed her brow. “I would say there’s a lot wrong with the world,” she said. “War, poverty, racism… _The Only Way Is Essex_ …”

Merlin snorted. “No, I don’t mean _morally_ wrong,” he said. “I mean, do you ever feel like things are somehow, I don’t know, mixed up? Like you were born in the wrong place at the wrong time?”

Gwen looked over at her friend sadly. Her father had always called Merlin “an odd duck,” but Gwen saw him more as a swan who’d somehow ended up in a duck pond. Brilliant, barmy Merlin, who read Shakespeare and Stephen Hawking with equal ease, but didn’t know better than to pick a fight with the mayor’s son, would have been happier almost anywhere other than King’s Hollow. Of course he felt like the world was mixed up.

Gwaine was a different sort. Handsome, funny, and full of bravado, Gwaine should have fit right in with Arthur Pendragon and his cronies. He was even good at football. But, for some reason, he chose to hang out with Merlin and Gwen instead.

And then there was her: Guinevere Smith, the most ordinary girl in King’s Hollow. How had she ended up here, with these two extraordinary boys?

“I’ve always thought I should have been born in medieval Norway,” Gwaine said. “I would have made an excellent Viking.”

“Why?” asked Merlin. “Because you smell like one?”

Gwaine reached over Gwen to swat at him. Merlin swatted back. Gwen rolled away just in time to avoid getting caught in the middle of a full-on slap fight.

“I really need to spend more time around girls,” she said. But they all knew she didn’t mean it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Week one of detention is full of surprises.

St. Augustine’s boasted the finest library of any secondary school in England. Or, at least, that was what Monmouth always said at fundraising events. In reality, it depended on how you defined “finest.” It was truly larger than most, and contained many well-preserved first editions, some of them dating back to the eighteenth century. But if you wanted to read up on web design, or the socioeconomic influences of reality television, or anything that happened after 1960, you might be out of luck.

The department was understaffed, so it was up to students to keep the shelves in order—which they didn’t, of course. So now, thanks to budget cuts and his classmates’ laziness, Merlin got to spend the next fortnight organizing books. It wouldn’t have been a bad punishment at all, except for who he had to share it with.

“I expect this library to be in _perfect order_ when you boys are done with it. Understand?” Monmouth glared from Merlin to Arthur and back.

“Yes, sir,” said Merlin. Arthur only grunted. He was playing some sort of game on his mobile. To Merlin’s disgust, Monmouth pretended not to notice.

“Very well,” he said. “I’ll return in exactly two hours to check your progress.”

The headmaster let the door slam shut behind him. Melodramatic though it was, Merlin couldn’t help imagining a prison door being closed on new inmates. At least there wasn’t the click of a lock.

“Right,” he said. “Well, er, this is a huge task, obviously, so we should probably start by establishing some kind of system.” When Arthur didn’t respond, he plowed on: “I was thinking we could do it row-by-row. Any books that are clearly in the wrong section entirely, we set aside until the end, so then it’s just a matter of getting all of the books on one row in order. That should be manageable.”

“Great,” Arthur said without looking up from his phone. “Have fun with that.”

“Excuse me?”

Arthur shrugged. “Well, it sounds like you’ve got this. I don’t see why I should get involved. I’d probably just get in your way.”

Merlin waited him to laugh and say, “Only joking!” but he just went back to his game. The idiot was actually serious.

Merlin yanked his phone out of his hands and tossed it into a bin.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Arthur yelled. “That’s a brand new iPhone, you freak!”

“So what? Can’t your daddy just buy you another one?”

Cursing, Arthur got up and went to dig the phone out, but Merlin got there first. He placed the largest book within reach over the top of the bin. Then he sat on it.

“Were you even listening in Monmouth’s office yesterday?” he asked. “If we don’t do this properly, we could get suspended. Maybe that means nothing to you, but to me, it could mean the difference between going to Oxford and not going to uni at all.”

Arthur looked confused. “What are you on about?”

_“Scholarships!”_ Merlin shook his head in disbelief. “Are you seriously that clueless? Not everyone can buy their way into any uni they choose. Some of us have to actually work for the things we want. And I am not about to let one stupid mistake, or one stupid, over-privileged prat, ruin my entire life. So choose a row and get to work.”

There was a very long pause.

“I didn’t know,” said Arthur. “I mean, I didn’t think about it. I’m sorry.”

Merlin’s jaw dropped. An actual, sincere apology from Arthur Pendragon? Just like that?

“Er, okay,” he said. “Can we get down to business now?”

Arthur nodded.

They worked in silence for the next quarter of an hour. Arthur moved through his section steadily, though more slowly than Merlin. To be fair, Merlin was quite fast. Sorting books really wasn’t much different from sorting files, and he had plenty of practice with that, having worked in Gaius’s office every summer since he was old enough to do so without violating child labor laws. Apparently, the job had prepared Merlin for the real world more than he’d realized. Gaius would be delighted.

“Do you really think I’ve never had to work for anything I wanted?” Arthur asked suddenly.

Merlin was ready with another smart remark, but he stopped short when he saw the earnest look on Arthur’s face. He considered the question.

“It definitely seems that way,” he said. “You’ve got everything most blokes would kill for: money, friends, athletic ability, looks—”

“Looks?” Arthur raised an eyebrow.

To his horror, Merlin felt his cheeks flush. “Like you don’t know that, with half the girls in town chasing you around all the time.”

To end the conversation before he embarrassed himself any further, he pretended to be captivated by _The Spirit of Cricket_. After a moment, he heard Arthur go back to work.

* * *

Dinner was an unusually quiet affair at Pendragon Manor that night. Halfway through, Morgana turned to her brother and said, “I’m not talking because I’m sleep-deprived. What’s your excuse?”

Arthur shrugged. “Long day, I guess.”

The truth was, he couldn’t stop thinking about his conversation with Merlin. It had been a shock to realize how much the other boy had banking on their punishment, but what really got to Arthur was Merlin’s comments about him. Was he really as spoiled and sheltered as Merlin seemed to think?

He thought back to Merlin’s verbal assault on him in the school courtyard. There had been at least fifty people gathered around, and not one of them had come to his defense. Arthur hadn’t given it any thought at the time, but now he had to wonder: did they all secretly agree with Merlin?

And then Merlin had said he was good-looking. What was that about?

He was jerked out of his reverie by Morgana poking him in the hand with her fork.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“Wow, you really are out of it tonight,” she said. “Please explain to our father that I’m no longer five years old.”

“Morgana, you’re being unreasonable,” said Uther. “I’m only thinking of your safety.”

Arthur blinked. “What’s going on?”

“He’s saying I can’t go to the concert with Gwen on Saturday!” Morgana fumed. “You know how much I was looking forward to that. And Gwen doesn’t have a car, so if I don’t go, then she can’t go, and she’s been saving up for that ticket for _months_ —”

“Arthur, surely you don’t think this is a good idea,” said Uther. “Two young women driving home in the middle of the night with a…with all these disappearances of late?”

“Er…” Honestly, Arthur thought his dad had a point, but he hated to say so with Morgana glaring at him as she now was.

“Er…maybe you could compromise?” he said. “Like, er…doesn’t Gwen’s brother live in London? Maybe you could spend the night at his flat and drive home in the morning.”

This perfectly reasonable suggestion, combined with Morgana’s puppy dog eyes, was more than Uther could withstand.

“I suppose that would be acceptable,” he said. “Assuming Guinevere’s brother agrees to the arrangement, of course.”

“I’ll call her right after dinner,” said Morgana. Satisfied, she went back to eating her shepherd’s pie.

Arthur breathed a sigh of relief. Morgana didn’t fight with their father very often, but when she did, things tended to get ugly fast. Arthur felt like he’d just put out a kitchen fire before it could burn down the house.

After dinner, Morgana stopped him at the foot of the stairs.

“Hey, thanks for helping me out back there,” she said. “I guess you’re not _completely_ useless after all.”

Arthur forced a laugh. He knew she was only joking, but after Merlin’s words, hers hit a bit too close to home.

Morgana furrowed her brow. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, of course.”

She crossed her arms and gave him a look that said, “Not buying it.” Arthur sighed. He’d seen that expression enough times to know that he wasn’t getting out of this conversation without telling the truth. Better get it over with.

“Do you think we’re…over-privileged?” he asked.

Morgana blinked. “Yes.”

“Really?”

“Of course, really! Look at where we live.”

Morgana made a sweeping gesture, directing his gaze across the sitting room. Arthur tried to look at it objectively: the marble fireplace, the paintings in gilded frames, the grand piano. He’d never thought of their home as opulent, but he supposed it was larger than most of his friends’ houses.

“Dare I ask what brought this on?” Morgana asked.

“Merlin Ealdor,” Arthur muttered. “He called me an over-privileged prat.”

“And you actually listened?” Morgana looked amazed. “Maybe it will do you some good, being around someone who calls you out on your bullshit.”

“You call me out on my bullshit every day.”

“Yes, but I’m your sister. You never pay any attention to what I think.”

“True.”

Morgana playfully swatted the back of his head.

“You can’t help being over-privileged,” she said. “But you can help being a prat. Keep that in mind.”

Arthur nodded thoughtfully. “I will.”

* * *

The next day, Gwen and Gwaine were curious as to what detention with Arthur had been like. Merlin didn’t know how to answer them. It had been so many things just in the first few minutes: infuriating, surprising, embarrassing, and then, somehow, okay. And after that, it had been totally uneventful. There was simply no one word that summed up the whole experience. He ended up giving them a play-by-play account over lunch.

“Bloody hell, he really doesn’t know what a berk he is, does he?” said Gwaine. “I don’t know whether that makes him more irritating or less.”

“Me neither,” said Merlin. “But he did his share of the work in the end. I guess he’s not beyond hope.”

Gwen elbowed him in the ribs. Merlin looked up to see the subject of their conversation entering the courtyard with his mates from the football team. As always, Lancelot made a beeline for their table.

Merlin suddenly became very interested in his sandwich. Lance was sure to greet Gwen with a kiss, and seeing that always filled Merlin with embarrassment. It was how he imagined other people felt watching their parents snog. When he dared to look up again, Lance was playing with Gwen’s hair.

“Hello,” said Lance.

“Hello,” said Gwen.

It was amazing how they managed to make two syllables drip with subtext. Or maybe it was more the way they looked at each other than their tone. Either way, Merlin wanted to puke.

Then Arthur stepped up beside Lance, looked right at Merlin, and said, “Hey.”

It was such a small thing, but it completely threw Merlin for a loop. None of the footballers aside from Lance ever bothered saying hello to him. Even Gwen and Lance stopped gazing deep into each other’s eyes long enough to look at Arthur in surprise.

“Er, hi,” said Merlin.

After an awkward pause, Arthur said, “Well…See you after class, I guess.”

“Yeah. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Arthur walked off, his mates following in his wake. Lancelot went with them today—but not before giving Gwen another kiss, which Merlin didn’t look away from quickly enough.

“Well, that was a riveting conversation,” said Gwaine.

Merlin didn’t reply. He was too busy wondering how many times Arthur Pendragon would succeed in surprising him.

* * *

Working alongside Merlin was intimidating. His long, pale fingers flew along the shelves at an almost inhuman speed. More than once, Arthur caught himself staring at them.

_Don’t give him an excuse to have another go at you,_ he told himself sternly.

Contrary to what Merlin might think, Arthur didn’t shy away from hard work. The problem was that this wasn’t hard work. There was no challenge in alphabetizing books—not for his mind, and certainly not for his body. It was like watching paint dry, only worse, because no one would ever judge him on his ability to watch paint dry.

Suddenly, Arthur realized that he no longer heard the flutter of activity to his left. He turned and saw Merlin with his nose in a book called _The Fall of Rome_.

“If you can’t figure out where that goes by the cover, then I doubt the inside is going to help you,” said Arthur.

Merlin sheepishly replaced the book. “Sorry. Got distracted.”

“Obviously.”

This happened again not five minutes later, and again ten minutes after that. Arthur couldn’t resist commenting.

“You know, for someone whose future depends on this job, you sure are taking your time.”

“I can’t help it!” Merlin put _Senators and Centurions_ back where he’d found it. “There are so many interesting books here!”

“You didn’t have this problem yesterday.”

“That’s because yesterday I was in the sports section.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Of course. That explains everything.”

Somehow, even with these interruptions, Merlin finished organizing his section before Arthur was halfway through his. Without missing a beat, he walked around Arthur and started on the next section.

“How are you so fast?” Arthur asked. “Have you done this before?”

“I’ve done filing for Gaius,” said Merlin, shrugging. “It’s pretty similar.”

“Gaius…That’s Dr. Bellamy, right?” Arthur vaguely remembered seeing Merlin with the town doctor in Sainsbury’s once. “He’s your…grandfather?”

“Foster father.”

“Oh.”

Arthur was taken aback. He’d never known anyone in foster care before. Did that mean Merlin was an orphan?

He realized that, though they’d crossed paths practically every day of their lives, he knew next to nothing about Merlin Ealdor. All he’d gleaned from their classes together was that the other boy was hilariously bad at sports and annoyingly brilliant at most other things. Strangely, he was best friends with Gwaine, who was brilliant at nothing, as far as Arthur could tell, except being a prat. He was also close enough to Guinevere to cause gossip, even after she started dating Lance. ( _Especially_ after she started dating Lance, if truth be told.) Really, Merlin was a bit of a mystery. And Arthur wasn’t one to leave a mystery alone.

“So you like the Romans, then?” he asked, nodding at the shelf Merlin had been organizing.

“I like all kinds of history.”

“Except for the history of sports.”

“Obviously.”

Somehow, this led to a discussion of the Norman Conquest. Well, really, it was mostly Merlin rambling on about Normans and Saxons and Celts while Arthur listened with mingled curiosity and confusion. It was oddly endearing, the way Merlin got so excited about things that had happened a thousand years before he was born.

“Well, boys, how’s it going?”

Arthur jumped. He had been so caught up in Merlin’s explanation of the Bayeux Tapestry that he didn’t hear Monmouth enter the library. He looked at the clock and was amazed to see that their two hours were already up. Fortunately, Merlin sorted as he talked, so they’d made reasonable progress. Monmouth dismissed them with a curt nod.

“Well, see you tomorrow, I guess,” said Merlin.

“Er, yeah,” said Arthur. “Bye.”

For a moment, Arthur was filled with regret that he didn’t get to hear the end of Merlin’s impromptu lecture. Then he realized he was lamenting _getting out of detention._ What was wrong with him?

* * *

At lunch the next day, Arthur had an epiphany.

“You know, Lance, I’ve been thinking,” he said. “It’s really kind of ridiculous, making you choose between your mates and your girlfriend every day. Why don’t you just ask Gwen and her friends to sit with us?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realized I made a grievous omission in the first two chapters—I forgot to give a nod to my kickass beta, Georgia Kate. Thanks, GK!

“Have you got your mobile?”

“Of course.”

“And your charger?”

“Yes.”

“What about—”

“Dad! I’ve got everything!”

Morgana opened the car door and tossed her rucksack onto the backseat. Gwen wasn’t expecting her for another twenty minutes, but she needed to get away from her father before he drove her mad.

Uther sighed. “Call me when you reach Elyan’s flat.”

Morgana hugged him tightly. “I will.”

Just as she was buckling her seatbelt, Arthur poked his head out the front door.

“Hey, Morgana! Couldn’t drop me off at Percival’s, could you?”

“Sure. Get in.”

The Pendragons could have easily afforded three cars, but Uther insisted that Arthur and Morgana share the Prius. He seemed to think it would build character. As far as Morgana could tell, it just gave Arthur something to whinge about—though, come to think of it, he hadn’t said a word about her taking the car for most of this weekend.

“So how’s detention going?” she asked as they pulled out of the driveway.

“Good,” said Arthur. “I mean, it’s okay. For detention.”

Morgana took her eyes off the road just long enough to raise an eyebrow at him. Arthur was only this terse when he had something to hide.

As if sensing her suspicion, he abruptly changed the subject: “Had any more nightmares lately?”

Morgana’s grip on the steering wheel tightened.

“No,” she said. “Not since we last talked about it.”

Though this was the truth, it didn’t give her much comfort. Sometimes she slept peacefully for weeks or even months at a time. The nightmares always came back eventually.

But she wasn’t going to think about that today. Today she was going to see a great band play in a great city with a great friend who she rarely got to hang out with. (It was difficult to get Gwen away from Gwaine, who Morgana couldn’t stand.) No fretting about nightmares or missing women or overprotective fathers.

Morgana turned on the radio and cranked up the volume. For the rest of the drive to Percival’s house, there was no talking, only singing.

* * *

With Gwen in London, Gwaine naturally invited himself over to Merlin’s. It was a good thing, too, because he found the little geek _studying_ on a Saturday afternoon.

“This calls for an intervention,” he said, snatching a book out from under Merlin’s nose. Merlin didn’t even put up a fight.

“Fine. What do you say to a _Star Wars_ marathon?” he asked. Gaius refused to buy any sort of gaming console, but they had an impressive DVD collection.

“Sounds good,” said Gwaine, already heading for the couch.

“ _Phantom Menace_ or _A New Hope_?”

“ _A New Hope._ What kind of question is that?”

Merlin chuckled as he pulled the DVD off the shelf. “Fair enough. Though, actually, Arthur made an interesting point the other day. He said that people only hate the prequels because they can’t stop comparing them to the original trilogy. They’re bad, but they’re not really _that_ bad.”

“How insightful. Please, tell me more of Arthur’s wisdom.”

He didn’t bother hiding the impatience in his voice. Merlin looked up at him, startled.

“Do you have something against Arthur?” he asked.

“You’re the one who recently tried to punch his face in.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Gwaine shook his head in disbelief. _Of course_ he had something against Arthur, and up until recently, so had Merlin. How many hours had they spent mocking that dickhead and his band of merry morons? What had happened in the last week to cancel out years of bad behavior?

Unfortunately, Merlin misinterpreted his silence completely.

“I’m not replacing you,” he said.

“I know you’re not,” said Gwaine, but Merlin didn’t seem to believe him.

“Honestly, you have nothing to worry about,” he insisted. “Arthur and I are getting along better than I expected, but he could never replace you. You’re my best mate, and he’s…something else.”

Gwaine raised his eyebrows. “Something else?”

Merlin hesitated for a moment, weighing his words.

“It’s like…yeah, Arthur’s great, but when I’m with him, it’s not exactly like when you and I first started hanging out. It’s…less relaxed, I guess. Like, he’s easy to talk to, but not…”

The harder he tried to explain, the higher Gwaine’s eyebrows rose.

Merlin sighed. “Forget it. I’m not explaining properly.”

Gwaine chuckled.

“No,” he said, “I think I get it now.”

He settled back on the couch.

“So…are we watching the film, or what?”

* * *

Arthur would never have called Percival dumb. He was a good goalkeeper and a great friend, and Arthur didn’t insult his friends. But it was undeniable that he occasionally did dumb things—like inviting three friends over to play video games when he only had two controllers.

It wasn’t a total loss, however. Arthur rather enjoyed sitting on the couch with Lance, eating pizza and watching Percival thrash Leon at _Super Smash Brothers Brawl._

“This isn’t fair!” Leon grumbled. “You’ve had more practice than me.”

“Funny, your mum said the exact same thing to me last night,” said Percival.

Arthur laughed so hard, he nearly choked on his pizza.

 _I’ll have to tell that one to Merlin,_ he thought. Then, _Where did that come from?_

It wasn’t the first time Merlin had unexpectedly entered his thoughts of late. Clearly, he’d been spending too much time in that damn library. It was messing with his head. He would have to spend every moment he could with his mates to counterbalance it.

“We should go to the cinema tomorrow,” he announced. “I haven’t been in ages.”

“Good idea,” said Lance. “I’ve been meaning to see the new Bond film.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t see it with Gwen,” said Leon. “Isn’t she mad about Daniel Craig?”

“She saw it with Merlin.”

“Does it bother you that your girlfriend spends more time with another bloke than she does with you?” Percival asked.

Lance laughed. “Of course not! I trust Gwen. Besides, it’s _Merlin_.”

While Lance went to get another slice of pizza, Arthur mulled this comment over. When he returned, he asked quietly, “So you think the rumors are true, then? About Merlin being gay?”

Lance looked up in surprise. “Er, no idea,” he said after a moment’s hesitation. “He’s never dated anyone, male or female, as far as I know.”

“But you just said, about him and Gwen…”

“Oh, I just meant they’ve been friends for so long, neither of them would ever think of going there. Being jealous of Merlin would be like being jealous of _Elyan_.”

Arthur nodded. That was the vibe he’d always gotten from them, though others seemed to see things differently.

“Why the sudden interest?” Lance asked.

 _Why indeed,_ thought Arthur.

“Just curious,” he said, shrugging. “We’ve been spending all this time together in detention, and I’ve realized how little I actually know the guy.”

“Hmm.” Lance chewed thoughtfully. “Well, if you want to get to know him better, you should probably talk to him, not me. Though I wouldn’t recommend asking him out of the blue if he’s gay. I’m pretty sure that’s considered rude.”

Arthur snorted. “Good to know.”

Before that week, he’d never given much thought to the various, conflicting rumors about Merlin’s sexuality. Now he couldn’t stop thinking about them. What if Merlin _was_ gay? What did that mean for their burgeoning friendship?

 _You’re being ridiculous,_ he told himself. _Not to mention conceited. Even if Merlin fancies men, that doesn’t mean he specifically fancies you._

Then again, Merlin had called him good-looking. But you could recognize that someone was attractive without being attracted _to_ them. After all, he knew that Merlin was cute, in his own, dorky way. That didn’t mean he fancied Merlin. It couldn’t. He was straight. Completely, one hundred percent straight.

Wasn’t he?

* * *

_It starts as a strange sensation in her throat—not pain, exactly, but nothing pleasant. Then she tries to take a breath and finds she can’t. She’s been poisoned._

_She tries to scream, but all that comes out is a strangled noise halfway between a cough and a gasp. Again and again, she makes the horrible sound._

_Her murderer stands with his back to her. Then, slowly, he begins to turn…_

“Wake up, sleepyhead! We’re here.”

Morgana jolted awake.

“Where…what?”

“We’re here,” Gwen repeated. She furrowed her brow. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Morgana rubbed her eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for taking the wheel.”

Gwen had insisted on driving from the concert to her brother’s flat. It seemed she’d been wise, since Morgana had dozed off as soon as they got going. Still groggy, she followed Gwen to the front door of a small block of flats.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Gwen asked as she pressed a button labeled _Smith, E._ “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Yeah. It’s just…You know how it is, waking up from a nap you didn’t intend to take. You always feel disoriented for a while.”

Morgana ordered herself to cheer up. The concert had been brilliant, and now she was going to get to see Elyan Smith. Secretly, she’d always fancied Gwen’s handsome brother. The fact that he’d actually done what most of his peers only talked about, and left King’s Hollow, made him even more appealing. She couldn’t wait to hear all about his adventures in the city.

But Elyan wasn’t answering the door.

“Must be in the bathroom,” Gwen said, pushing the buzzer again.

They waited for thirty seconds. Gwen pressed the buzzer again. And again.

“Maybe it’s broken.” She pulled out her mobile and dialed her brother’s number. “It’s going to voicemail. Damn it, Elyan! I told you we’d be here around midnight.”

Dread crept over Morgana.

“Maybe you should trying buzzing his neighbors,” she said.

“At this time of night? They’ll throw things out their windows at us.”

But after another ten minutes in the chilly London air, she tried it, anyway. There was no response from _Howard, B._ or _Gupta, A. Perry, J._ only cursed at them before going back to bed. Then they got lucky: _McIntire, S._ was a night owl.

“Elyan from 3A?” she asked, frowning. “Is he expecting you?”

Gwen nodded.

“I haven’t seen him in days,” she said. “I assumed he’d gone on holiday.”

“No, that’s impossible,” said Gwen. “I rang him up on Tuesday, and he said, ‘Okay, see you Saturday.’”

In the end, McIntire, S. reluctantly let them in the building. Gwen led the way to flat 3A.

“Elyan? You in there?” When there was no response, she knocked harder. “Oy! Elyan!”

Morgana took out her credit card. “Step aside.”

She slid the card in between the door and the frame and pushed. The door popped open.

“Where’d you learn how to do that?” Gwen asked, agape.

“Google.”

She’d seen someone break into a house that way in a movie and thought it might be a useful skill to have. In her imagination, she’d used it on the back door after misplacing her keys, or, if she was feeling mischievous, to break into Arthur’s room for a prank. Never in her wildest dreams would she have pictured breaking into Elyan Smith’s flat to find…God, what was she about to find?

She took a deep breath and stepped inside.

There was no body.

No blood.

No sign of a struggle.

But there was also no Elyan.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I'd like to thank my fabulous beta, Georgia Kate. :-D

Gwen wasn’t in class on Monday. Merlin couldn’t blame her, but he worried about leaving her alone.

“It’s better than the alternative,” said Gwaine. “All these idiots getting up in her face, asking her questions, making her relive the whole thing.”

“People aren’t _that_ insensitive,” said Merlin, though he wasn’t sure he believed it. All day, he’d been interrogated by classmates whose concern for Gwen and Elyan didn’t quite ring true.

“Do you think it was a serial killer?” Lena Fielding asked him in hushed tones, her eyes bright with excitement. She might as well have been talking about an episode of _Coronation Street._ It was enough to make anyone cynical, but Merlin had bigger concerns.

“Forty-eight hours,” he said quietly. “That’s the rule of thumb, isn’t it? After forty-eight hours, the odds of finding a missing person decrease by fifty percent.”

“Don’t be so grim,” said Gwaine. “Statistics can’t predict everything.”

Merlin nodded, though he wasn’t comforted much. In theory, Gwaine was right; statistical anomalies happened. But Merlin’s logical side said there was no reason to assume Elyan would be the exception to the rule.

At the moment, Merlin really hated his logical side.

It was all so bloody unfair. Gwen had already lost both of her parents. Elyan was the only family she had left. Sweet, kind Gwen, who never had a harsh word for anyone. She didn’t deserve this.

He hated not being able to go straight to Gwen’s after class. However, his spirits lifted a bit when he entered the library and found Arthur already deep in the periodicals section.

“How’s Guinevere?” he asked, looking genuinely concerned. Merlin felt a wave of gratitude.

“About as well as can be expected, I guess,” he replied.

“Morgana’s devastated,” said Arthur. “Between you and me, I think she’s always sort of fancied Elyan. And, obviously, it upsets her to see Gwen so upset.”

Merlin hadn’t known Arthur and his sister were so close. It made him like Arthur even more, and also envy him a little. Merlin had always longed for siblings.

“Morgana is lucky to have a brother like you,” he said.

“Could you tell her that?” Arthur asked.

Suddenly, Merlin realized that he didn’t want this to end. He didn’t want to stop learning new things about Arthur. He didn’t want to stop telling him stories and laughing at his jokes and working at his side. But soon their punishment would be over, and they’d have no reason to spend so much time together ever again. Of course, things wouldn’t go back to the way they were before. He and Arthur were friends now; the merging of their lunch groups proved that. But Arthur had a lot of friends. Merlin would become just another hanger-on, another face in the crowd that surrounded Arthur wherever he went.

How much longer did they have? Merlin straightened up and surveyed the library, counting how many shelves they’d organized and how many they had left. He reached a conclusion that made his heart sink.

“I think we’re going to finish ahead of schedule,” he said.

“Really?” said Arthur. “Fantastic!”

Merlin thought he saw a flicker of disappointment in Arthur’s eyes. But he was probably just seeing what he wanted to see.

* * *

Gwen returned to class on Tuesday, looking tired and pale, but calm. Merlin admired her strength. If Gaius went missing, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to cope so well.

“Any news?” he asked as they walked to school.

Gwen shook her head. Merlin wanted to ask more questions, but the look on her face said she didn’t want to discuss it. So they didn’t. Merlin didn’t hear another word about Elyan until a day later, when it was brought up by Arthur of all people.

“My Uncle Agravaine came over for dinner last night,” he said. “I eavesdropped on him talking about the Smith case with my dad.”

Merlin froze. “And?”

“They haven’t got a clue. They don’t even know if there’s a connection between Elyan’s disappearance and those two missing girls.”

“But there must be one, mustn’t there? Two people go missing in King’s Hollow, and then someone from King’s Hollow goes missing in London?”

Arthur shrugged. “Stranger coincidences have happened.”

Merlin lapsed into silence. Arthur had a point, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something more was going on. He turned the facts of the case over and over in his head as he sorted books.

He could already tell they were going to finish today. As per Merlin’s suggestion, they’d been putting any books that were in the wrong section entirely into a pile in the middle of the room, to be sorted at the very end. That pile was all that was left. All the more reason for Merlin to focus on the case; it kept his mind off other things.

“Those two women,” he said suddenly. “They were both leaving town, yeah?”

“I think so,” said Arthur. “They were definitely last seen on the road heading out of town.”

And Elyan had left King’s Hollow for the glamor and excitement of London. Merlin knew he was grasping at straws, but what else did the three have in common?

He was pulled out of his reverie by a book that didn’t have a label on its spine. There wasn’t a label on the front or back cover, either. Puzzled, he flipped through the book, but found no indication of where it was supposed to go. And it was written in what looked like Welsh, so he couldn’t even read the title page to determine what section it belonged in.

“Distracted again, I see.”

Merlin jumped. He’d been so preoccupied that he didn’t notice Arthur sneaking up on him until the other boy was literally breathing down his neck. Normally, Merlin would have been annoyed, but Arthur looked so pleased with himself that he couldn’t help returning his smile.

“I have an excuse this time.” Merlin handed him the book. “Look at this. It doesn’t even look like a library book.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Arthur. “I found that in the physics section yesterday. I guess someone was returning a bunch of books, and they accidentally dropped in one that they own.”

“But then why would the librarian put it back on the shelf?”

Arthur shrugged.

Merlin took the book back and examined it again. It was clearly very old—the pages yellowed, the leather cover worn smooth—but still in good condition. There was no text on the cover, just a strange symbol: a narrow cross on top of a circle.

“Just set it aside,” said Arthur, turning his attention back to the pile. “We can ask Monmouth about it when he gets back.”

Merlin started to set the mysterious book on top of the circulation desk, but then, on a whim, he put it in his rucksack instead.

He never could resist a mystery.

* * *

Arthur was worried about Morgana. Since returning from London, she’d barely said a word, except to ask Uncle Agravaine if he had any leads on the missing persons case. And either her nightmares were getting worse, or she was too busy worrying about Elyan to sleep, because she was looking more like a wraith with each passing day. When she left the dinner table that night without touching her food, Arthur decided he had to say something.

“Hey, Morgana? Could we talk?”

Morgana sighed. “Arthur, I’ve had a long day. I don’t really feel like…”

“I just wanted to know if you’re okay.”

Morgana’s look softened. For a moment, Arthur was afraid she was going to start crying. Instead, she did something even worse: she hugged him.

The Pendragons were not huggers. They were as close-knit as any family, but they were rarely so demonstrative about their love for one another. So when Morgana threw her arms around him, Arthur had no idea how to react.

“Morgana, what—”

“Promise me something,” she said, squeezing him tighter. “Promise me you’ll never just disappear.”

Oh.

Normally, Arthur would have made a joke. Something like, “If I promise, will you let go of me?” But this time, he just hugged his sister back and said, “Okay. I promise.”

When he got back to his room, he fired up his laptop and Googled “missing persons.”

* * *

Some people might have found it odd that Merlin showed the mysterious book to Gaius. After all, his foster father was a doctor, not a librarian. But Gaius was the smartest person Merlin knew, and one of the few he could trust not to laugh at him.

“You said you found this in the school library? Just sitting on one of the shelves, like any other book?”

“Yeah,” said Merlin. “Why? Is it valuable or something?”

“It may be,” said Gaius. “I’m no expert, but even I can see that it’s extremely old. It should be in a glass display case somewhere, not out where anyone can put their grubby hands on it.”

“Any idea what it’s about? Or what that symbol on the cover means?”

“I’m not even sure what language this is. Welsh, perhaps?”

Merlin shook his head. “I thought that, too, but I ran the first sentence through Google Translate, and it just gave me gibberish.”

“Strange,” Gaius murmured. “Very strange.”

There was nothing left to say on the matter, so Merlin took the book back to his room. He put it on his bookshelf, right in between _King Lear_ and _The Lord of the Rings._ He was already a thief; keeping the book for another day or two couldn’t hurt.

Merlin’s mobile rang just as he was drifting off to sleep. He considered letting it go to voicemail, until he remembered Gwen.

He grabbed the mobile off his nightstand and held it over his face, squinting in the light from the tiny screen. “Unknown number.” So it wasn’t Gwen, nor was it Gwaine. Merlin’s curiosity was piqued. Who else could be calling him at this time of night?

“Hello?” he said groggily.

“I think you’re onto something.”

“Arthur?” Merlin sat up in bed. “How did you get my number?”

“I texted Lance, who texted Gwen. But that’s not important right now. Listen: I think more people have gone missing.”

Suddenly, Merlin was wide awake.

“Who?”

“Cedric Baker, Jayne White, Bert Jameson. Maybe even more. I looked up everyone I could think of who’d moved out of town. Cedric’s parents haven’t heard from him in months, but they didn’t investigate, because they assumed he just wasn’t talking to them. You know what that family is like. Same with Jayne’s dad and brother. And Bert didn’t really have a family.”

“Bloody hell.”

All day, Merlin had been trying to work out a connection between Elyan and the missing women. Now the body count had doubled, and the pattern was crystal clear: a string of young people, most without any strong family ties, leaving King’s Hollow and then disappearing. And yet, he still had no idea who might be doing this, or why.

“It’s like someone’s punishing anyone who leaves King’s Hollow,” said Merlin. “Or…or trying to scare people out of leaving.”

“But Morgana and Gwen went to London and back without anything bad happening,” Arthur pointed out.

_Maybe they just got lucky,_ Merlin thought. It was too horrible to contemplate, let alone say out loud, so instead he asked, “What did your dad have to say about this?”

There was a slight pause on the other end of the line.

“Oh!” Arthur sounded sheepish. “Er, I haven’t told him yet. I called you first thing.”

Merlin was oddly flattered.

“Well, that should probably be your next move,” he said. “You can tell me how it goes tomorrow.”

“Right. Er, goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

* * *

Merlin didn’t say much on the walk to school the next morning. All he could think about was his late night call from Arthur, and he was hesitant to share that with the others. He’d forgotten that one of them already knew a little about it.

“So…” said Gwen. “You want to tell me why Lance texted me in the middle of the night, asking for your number to give to Arthur?”

Gwaine whipped his head around so fast, it was a wonder he didn’t get whiplash.

Merlin weighed his options. He hated lying to his friends, but telling the truth would mean mentioning Elyan, which would only upset Gwen.

“Arthur had a question about our English homework,” he said eventually.

“Isn’t Lance in that class as well?” said Gwen. “Why didn’t Arthur just ask him?”

“I guess Lance didn’t know the answer, either.”

“And it couldn’t wait till morning?”

“The assignment is due today.”

Gwen looked suspicious, but she didn’t press the issue. Merlin thought he was in the clear—until they reached school, and Gwaine pulled him aside.

“All right, what are you and Pendragon really up to?”

Merlin saw no reason not to tell Gwaine the whole story. He wasn’t as close to the case as Gwen, and he knew how to keep a secret. When he’d finished, Gwaine just stared at him.

“So now you two are Batman and Robin?” he said finally.

“More like Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson, I think,” said Merlin.

“Which one’s which?”

“Well, I’m the brainy one with the weird name.”

“But Pendragon won’t accept the role of sidekick.”

They amused themselves for quite some time, debating which fictional duo Arthur and Merlin best resembled. Merlin was quite attached to the idea of himself as Sherlock Holmes, but he had to admit (to himself, not Gwaine) that the mental image of Arthur in spandex was…entertaining.

“Seriously, though,” Gwaine said eventually, “you know this is mad, right? Playing detective?”

“I know,” said Merlin. “But we can’t just sit back and do nothing.”

Anyone else would have pointed out that, actually, they _could_ sit back and do nothing, but Gwaine nodded. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

“Of course,” said Merlin, though he doubted there would be.

They ate lunch with the footballers again that day. Gwen suggested it, but Merlin seconded it immediately, knowing it would be his only chance to talk to Arthur for hours. Gwaine smirked at him, but said nothing.

Ten minutes later, Gwaine was arm wrestling with Percival. While the others were distracted, Merlin turned to Arthur and asked quietly, “Did you tell your dad?”

“Yeah. He tried to play it cool, but I could tell he was really freaked out. He said he’d tell Uncle Agravaine.”

“I guess the police can take it from here, then.”

“Yeah, I suppose.”

There was a pause.

“But it couldn’t hurt to keep looking for clues ourselves,” said Arthur.

Merlin smiled. “What did you have in mind?”

“Are you doing anything after class today?”

“Besides rejoicing that I have my freedom back? No.”

Arthur pulled open his rucksack. Tucked in between his books and his football uniform were two torches, a camera, and a magnifying glass.

“I was thinking maybe we should go back to the scene of the crime.”

* * *

Merlin was no stranger to mad schemes. They were a part of life when one was friends with Gwaine. But this made Gwaine’s most ridiculous stunt seem perfectly logical.

“This is insane,” said Merlin, ducking to avoid a low branch. “We’re not going to find anything just blindly stumbling around in the woods. And even if we run right into the kidnapper, what are we going to do? Politely ask him to accompany us to the police station?”

“Feel free to leave whenever you want,” Arthur said without so much as a backward glance. The next moment, he plunged into a thicket and disappeared from view. Sighing, Merlin followed.

When they failed to find anything on Asher Road itself, Arthur had insisted on checking the surrounding woods. At least he’d chosen an optimal day for this expedition. The sun was shining, and under the shade of the trees, it was the perfect temperature. In spite of his skepticism, Merlin was enjoying their walk.

“Why didn’t you ask any of your friends to come along?” he asked. “We could have covered more ground.”

“I don’t know,” said Arthur. “Why didn’t you invite Gwaine?”

That was a good question. After all, Gwaine had offered his help. Why wouldn’t Merlin invite his best friend to join them?

Deep down, he knew the answer, of course. He didn’t want Gwaine there. He didn’t want anyone intruding on his time with Arthur. But he couldn’t say that, nor could he ask the question he really wanted to ask: did Arthur feel the same way?

Merlin shrugged. “Didn’t occur to me, I guess.”

They spent the next hour combing the woods for any sign of another human being. As Merlin predicted, they didn’t find any.

“It’s going to be getting dark soon,” he said gently.

Arthur sighed. “Yeah. I guess we’d better…wait a second.” He froze. “Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

But the moment he listened, Merlin did hear it: a rustling in the thicket behind them. And it was getting closer.

In a moment of horrible clarity, Merlin realized just how stupid they’d been. They were two untrained, unarmed boys, alone in the woods where two people had already gone missing. They hadn’t told anyone where they were going. There was a very real chance they were about to die, and it was entirely their own fault.

The rustling was getting closer.

Merlin jumped in front of Arthur. A second later, the intruder burst out of the thicket.

It was a Labrador.

Merlin looked back at Arthur. Their eyes met, and the next thing he knew, they were both rolling in the grass laughing. Startled, the Labrador ran off.

“Some detectives we are!” Merlin gasped.

“No one can ever hear about this,” said Arthur. “We’d never live it down.”

Eventually, their howls of laughter dwindled down to giggles, then abated completely. But the grass beneath them was soft and warm, and there was no reason to get up in a hurry. Merlin stared up at the trees, admiring how bright and green the leaves looked with the sun shining through them. The terror he’d felt minutes before seemed silly now. It was impossible to believe that anything evil could reside in a place like this.

“Why did you jump in front of me like that?” Arthur asked.

Merlin rolled onto his side and was startled by how close their faces were. He could practically count Arthur’s eyelashes.

“I don’t know,” he answered truthfully. “Instinct, I guess.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Your instinct in a dangerous situation is to make yourself a human shield? Darwin would be appalled.”

Merlin felt his cheeks flush and groaned internally. Why did he keep doing that?

“All right, I won’t be so noble next time,” he said.

“Next time we mistake a dog for a dangerous psychopath, you mean?”

“Yes.”

It wasn’t exactly a snappy comeback, but to be fair, Merlin was a bit distracted. Anyone would be, he reasoned, lying five inches from Arthur Pendragon.

There are some people who only look attractive from a distance. Arthur was not such a person. If anything, he was even more intimidatingly gorgeous up close. Now Merlin could see that, yes, his eyes really were that blue, and his skin really was that clear, and his cheekbones really were that…Merlin couldn’t think of an appropriate adjective, but they were really _something._ Also, he smelled wonderful. It was totally unfair, but somehow, Merlin wasn’t angry.

He was still trying to think of a word to describe Arthur’s cheekbones when Arthur leaned in and kissed him.

It took a second for Merlin’s brain to process what was happening. Then it took another second for him to realize that he should probably be kissing Arthur back. And the next second, Arthur was pulling away, eyes wide with panic.

“I’m sorry!” he said. “I don’t know why I…I’m not…pretend that never happened.”

And then he ran away, leaving Merlin alone in the woods.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to my faithful beta, Georgia Kate. :-D

Merlin stayed in the forest until twilight. At first, he thought Arthur might return. Then he didn’t know what else to do. It seemed absurd to just go home and go to bed after what had happened.

Arthur had kissed him. _Arthur Pendragon_ had _kissed_ him. And then he’d run off. What was Merlin supposed to make of that? He was completely out of his element. Kissing was something other people did, people like Gwen and Lance.

_Gwen._ Gwen would know what to do.

Fifteen minutes later, he burst through Gwen’s front door. (They had long since abandoned formalities like knocking.) He found her in the sitting room, watching _Doctor Who_ with Gwaine.

Merlin stopped short. Though he’d managed to be civil for the past week, Gwaine still wasn’t an Arthur fan. How would he react to this news?

“Merlin, what’s wrong?” Gwen asked, her eyes wide with concern.

“I…er…”

“Obviously, he and Pendragon finally made out,” said Gwaine.

Merlin’s jaw dropped. “How did you know?”

A split second after the words left his mouth, he realized Gwaine had been joking.

_“What?”_

“WHAT?!”

“Oh, _hell_ ,” Merlin groaned, collapsing onto the couch.

In the end, he told them everything: about the heart-to-hearts in the library, the midnight call, the kiss. It meant telling Gwen about their investigation, but for the moment, she was far more interested in what happened afterward.

When he finished, there was a long pause. Then Gwaine said, “I always thought Pendragon was a closet case.”

“Gwaine!” said Gwen.

“What? I totally saw him checking out Lance’s arse once.”

“And what about me?” Merlin asked tentatively. “Did you have me pegged for a closet case, too?”

“Nah,” said Gwaine. “You’ve never seemed like you were hiding anything, mate. There’s a difference between hiding something and just not saying it.”

Merlin gave him a puzzled look, but Gwen was nodding.

“You’ve never shown much interest in girls,” she said. “Of course, you haven’t shown much interest in boys, either, until now.”

“I haven’t _felt_ much interest until now,” said Merlin.

“Arthur bloody Pendragon,” said Gwaine, shaking his head. “Of all the people you could have picked…”

“Why not?” Merlin didn’t hide his annoyance. “You haven’t gotten to know him the way I have. You shouldn’t judge.”

Gwen eyed Merlin thoughtfully. “You really like him, don’t you?”

Merlin’s expression softened. “Yeah, I do.”

It wasn’t an Earth-shattering epiphany. Of course, he’d realized he was physically attracted to Arthur. But he’d suppressed those feelings, assuming no good could come of them. Only now could he admit to himself the intensity of his longing.

“What are you going to do?” Gwen asked.

Merlin slumped back against the couch.

“I have no idea.”

* * *

Arthur didn’t stop running until he reached his bedroom. What he was running from, he didn’t know, but there was nothing else to do.

He’d kissed Merlin. He’d _kissed Merlin_.

It had seemed like such a good idea at the time. There they were, lying side-by-side in the grass, and Merlin had been looking at him like…but he hadn’t kissed back. It had all been in Arthur’s head. Merlin wasn’t attracted to him. He probably wasn’t even gay.

“Fuck,” Arthur moaned, flopping onto his bed facedown. “What have I done?”

If Merlin were a girl, this would be so much simpler. It would still be awkward, of course, but not a big deal. So he struck out with a girl. It happened to everyone eventually. Percival would crack a joke, Lance would pat his back sympathetically, and then they’d all move on. But striking out with a boy meant that he’d tried to snog a boy, which meant that Arthur was…maybe not one hundred percent straight. And that meant nothing would ever be the same again.

Unless…unless Merlin didn’t tell anyone.

A wave of relief washed over Arthur. Of course, Merlin would keep his secret. He was smart enough to know what outing Arthur would mean, and kind enough to want to spare him that. No one else would ever have to know.

_But Merlin knows,_ said the voice in Arthur’s head that apparently hated him. _And that means the end of your friendship._

He still had Merlin’s number saved in his phone. Maybe he should text him, try to minimize the damage. But what could he say? _Hey, sorry I went all gay on you tonight. I swear, I don’t normally do that. ___

No, this was not the kind of thing you talked about via text. He’d have to pull Merlin aside at school the next day—assuming Merlin was even still talking to him. As for what he would say…well, he had plenty of time to figure that out. Morgana wouldn’t be the only Pendragon unable to sleep tonight.

* * *

Walking to school the next morning, Merlin’s stomach felt as if it were tied in a knot. He had no idea what the day might bring. The only certainty was that, sooner or later, he’d run into Arthur.

“Relax,” Gwen told him. “You like Arthur. He obviously likes you. It’ll all work out if you just talk to each other.”

“Gwen, for someone who spends so much time around blokes, you really don’t understand them,” said Gwaine.

“And you’re assuming Arthur even wants to talk,” said Merlin. “The last I saw him, he was literally running away from me.”

“He panicked,” said Gwen. “He’s had time to calm down now.”

Merlin wished he had Gwen’s confidence. But, unlike her, he’d seen the fear in Arthur’s eyes as he pulled away from their kiss.

He went over his schedule in his head. He and Arthur had a couple of classes together in the afternoon, but none in the morning, so he had until lunchtime to figure out what to say to him.

Naturally, they reached the school’s car park just as Arthur and Morgana pulled up in their Prius.

Arthur stepped out of the car, saw Merlin, and froze like a deer in headlights. Merlin knew he looked the same way.

“Good morning!” Gwen said before the silence could get awkward.

“Morning, Gwen,” said Morgana. She looked from her brother to Merlin and back, puzzled. Clearly, Arthur had told her nothing.

“It’s good we caught up with you,” said Gwen. “I wanted to ask you about…er…our chemistry homework.”

“Sure,” said Morgana.

“Gwaine, didn’t you say you had trouble with that assignment, too?” Gwen asked. Without waiting for an answer, she began shepherding them both away. And then Merlin was alone with Arthur.

There was a long pause. Merlin watched Arthur watching a spot on the ground.

“I’m sorry,” said Arthur. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Well, that makes two of us,” said Merlin. There was no malice in his tone, but Arthur winced all the same.

“I don’t blame you for being angry,” he said. “If we can just forget it ever happened—”

“I don’t want to forget it,” Merlin cut in. “And I’m not angry, just confused. Things were going so well—things were _perfect_ —and then you ran off.”

“I’m sor—wait.” Arthur finally looked at him. “You’re upset that I ran away? Not about me kissing you?”

“Of course.”

It was fascinating, watching the array of emotions that crossed Arthur’s face in the next few seconds.

“But…but you didn’t kiss me back.”

“You took me by surprise,” said Merlin. “Another second, and I would have done.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

There was a pause. For the first time, Merlin understood what people meant when they talked about having butterflies in their stomach. It really did feel that way.

“So,” he said. “What do—”

“Oy! Arthur!”

Across the car park, Percival climbed out of his olive green Jeep.

“You see the match last night?” he called.

The next thing Merlin knew, he was stuck in the middle of a conversation about assists and back heels and lots of other terms he didn’t understand. Arthur glanced helplessly at Merlin, who shrugged.

“Later,” he mouthed, and went to class.

* * *

They didn’t see each other again until lunch. By now, it went without saying that Gwen and her friends would sit with the footballers, but by the time Merlin got to the table, the seats on either side of Arthur were already taken. Merlin decided it was high time he took some initiative.

“I’m going to get a soda,” he announced, loudly enough that Arthur was sure to hear him, but not so loudly as to draw attention from the others. Luckily, Arthur was quick on the uptake.

“I could use another drink, too,” he said, standing.

The vending machines were on the opposite side of the courtyard. It wasn’t the most private spot, but at least it was out of earshot.

Merlin pretended to be considering his beverage options very seriously. In reality, he was wondering if the butterflies in his stomach would ever calm down. 

“So…” Arthur cleared his throat. “Are you doing anything after class today?”

The butterflies went into overdrive. Merlin shook his head.

“Then maybe you could come over to mine and…you know…hang out.”

If there was one word Merlin never thought he’d use to describe Arthur, it was shy, but that was how he sounded at that moment. Merlin couldn’t quite suppress a grin.

“Yeah, okay.”

Arthur sighed in relief. “Okay. Cool.” He started to walk back to the table.

“Er, Arthur?” said Merlin. “You should probably get a drink.”

“Oh! Right!”

They walked back to the table in comfortable silence. Merlin would have liked to steal another moment with Arthur before they returned to class, but the moment the bell rang, Gwen dragged him off, Gwaine trailing behind.

“All right, spill,” she commanded.

“He invited me to hang out at his place after school today.”

“’Hang out’?” Gwen raised an eyebrow.

“Well, he couldn’t very well say, ‘Come over for a snog,’ could he?” said Gwaine.

Merlin blushed. “Let’s not jump to conclusions. Maybe he just wants to talk.”

Gwen and Gwaine rolled their eyes in unison.

* * *

In English that afternoon, Merlin invented a new game: See How Long You Can Go Without Looking at Arthur. He was really bad at it. Frequently, he caught Arthur looking at him as well. Maybe he’d teach Arthur the game, and then they could make it a competition.

When the bell rang, they wordlessly fell into step next to each other.

Morgana was already sitting in the front passenger seat of the Prius when they got there, engrossed in _Mansfield Park._

“Figured you’d want to drive,” she said without looking up. She didn’t notice Merlin until she heard the back door opening.

“Oh, hi,” she said. She looked over at Arthur, eyebrows raised.

“Merlin hasn’t played the newest _Legend of Zelda_ yet,” Arthur said so smoothly that Merlin nearly believed him. “So I invited him over to play.”

“Just Merlin?” Morgana asked. “You didn’t invite the whole football team? Is that allowed?”

“We’re not a cult,” Arthur said irritably. Morgana chuckled.

Merlin enjoyed watching their banter. Sibling relationships always fascinated him, being something he’d never experienced for himself. Gwen and Gwaine were close, but it wasn’t quite the same thing. You choose your friends; you get no say in your family. But in spite of all their bickering, he could tell Arthur and Morgana didn’t mind being stuck with each other.

“Did you get any more sleep last night?” Arthur asked.

Morgana sighed. “Not really.”

“The fire again?”

“No, this time I was poisoned by someone. I couldn’t see his face, but I had the feeling it was someone I knew well.”

Something strange happened to Merlin as Morgana said this. He pictured everything she described as vividly as if he’d seen it himself. Moreover, he saw details she hadn’t mentioned: Morgana crouched on the floor, eyes wide with terror. It was like déjà vu, only not. Merlin shivered. But before he could really analyze the experience, they arrived at their destination.

Pendragon Manor was every bit as opulent on the inside as its impressive exterior hinted. It was the only home Merlin had ever seen that actually looked like the ones in magazines. Everything was marble and silk and mahogany, and clean as only a house with hired help can be. Merlin felt vaguely guilty just standing there, as though his presence was befouling the impossibly white carpet.

“Come on,” said Arthur. “My room is upstairs.”

Compared to the rest of the house, Arthur’s room was a dump. There were movie posters on the walls, not paintings, and dirty laundry on the floor. It looked like any other teenage boy’s room. Merlin would have been perfectly at ease here, were he not alone with Arthur Pendragon, who was staring at him intently.

“So…” said Arthur.

“So…” Merlin echoed.

This time, when Arthur leaned in, Merlin met him halfway.

It was Merlin’s first proper kiss, and he tried to commit every detail to memory. He focused on the sensations—not just Arthur’s lips on his, but his arms around Merlin’s waist, the soft wool of his jumper under Merlin’s fingers. As for the kissing itself, all he could do was go on instinct and pray that was enough. Judging by the way Arthur smiled when they broke apart, it was.

Merlin was so happy, he was almost ready to forgive Arthur for the worry and confusion of the last twenty-four hours. Almost.

“Not going to run away again, are you?” he asked.

Arthur grimaced. “I’m sorry about that. I know it was a shitty thing to do, but I panicked. I…I’d never kissed another guy before.”

He said this as though it were some shocking admission. Merlin smiled in spite of himself.

“I figured,” he said. “And I understand. I’d never kissed a guy before, either. Actually…I’d never kissed anyone.”

Arthur’s eyes widened. “Seriously? That was your first kiss?”

Merlin nodded.

“But you’re sixteen! And I know lots of girls fancy you—I’ve heard Morgana’s friends talk about you.”

“But I don’t fancy girls,” said Merlin. He smiled shyly. “I like you, though. A lot.”

Arthur grinned. “I like you a lot, too.”

The next kiss was longer. Without breaking contact with Merlin’s mouth, Arthur led him farther into the room. Merlin’s stomach lurched as he realized they were heading toward the bed. He hadn’t considered the possibility that Arthur had more than kissing in mind when he invited him over. Wasn’t that moving extremely fast? Was Merlin ready to go further? But his anxiety turned out to be needless; Arthur merely sat on the end of the bed, pulling Merlin down next to him.

They kissed until they were both pink-cheeked and breathless, and then they simply sat together, Merlin’s head resting on Arthur’s shoulder. After a while, Arthur asked, “Would I be a horrible person if I asked you not to tell anyone about us? At least for a little while?”

“No,” said Merlin. “But, er…Gwen and Gwaine sort of already know.”

The color drained from Arthur’s face.

“Gwaine? You told _Gwaine?”_

“Don’t panic. He can keep a secret.”

Arthur didn’t seem to hear him. “And Gwen…You realize she and Lance tell each other everything, right? And if Lance knows—”

“—then there’s nothing to worry about,” Merlin cut in. “Lance would never out you. Give your friends some credit.”

Arthur sighed. “You’re right. I’m sorry, it’s just that…”

“You’re scared.” Merlin held his hand. “So am I. But Gwen and Gwaine have been really supportive, and I trust them not to tell anyone before I…before we’re ready.”

Arthur squeezed his hand back. “Okay. If you trust them, then that’s good enough for me. But no telling anyone else!”

“Agreed.”

There were things they needed to discuss: how long they would keep their relationship a secret, what they would tell people, how they would break the news to their families. But Merlin didn’t want to worry about any of that now. For the moment, he just wanted to kiss Arthur some more.

Which is exactly what he did.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks to my diligent beta, Georgia Kate. :-D

The next week was a whirlwind of flirty texts and covert smiles, of stolen moments in empty classrooms and secret meetings in the woods. Merlin could hardly believe this was really his life.

“I’m secretly dating the captain of the football team,” he told Gwen one morning. “I thought that kind of thing only happened in movies.”

On Saturday, he went over to Pendragon Manor to “play video games” again. Morgana greeted him at the door.

“Hey, Merlin. Football practice is running late. Arthur said he’ll be here in about fifteen minutes.”

“Oh, okay,” he said, trying to hide his disappointment.

It felt weird going up to Arthur’s bedroom by himself, so instead, he followed Morgana into the sitting room. An awkward silence ensued. Morgana was nice, but Merlin barely knew her. The only thing they had in common was Arthur, who Merlin was afraid to mention. He might let something slip.

“You have a lot of nice paintings,” he said eventually.

“Thanks,” said Morgana. “Our mom was sort of an amateur collector.”

Merlin looked around the room, hoping to find something more specific to comment on. Most of the paintings were pretty but unremarkable landscapes of the English countryside. Then he saw something that made him stop in his tracks. It wasn’t a painting, but a map, and in the upper corner was a narrow cross on top of a circle—the same symbol from the cover of the book he’d taken from the school library.

“That’s King’s Hollow as it looked in the sixteenth century,” said Morgana, following his gaze. “It’s been in our family for as long as anyone can remember.”

“Cool.”

When Morgana wasn’t looking, he took a picture of the map with his phone. Maybe there was a way to Google the symbol. Then Arthur arrived, still sweaty and streaked with dirt, pushing all other thoughts out of Merlin’s head.

* * *

Arthur was in such a good mood Saturday night that he let Morgana talk him into watching some ridiculous American soap opera with her. It actually wasn’t half bad. One of the main actors was a lanky, dark-haired boy who reminded him of Merlin. The resemblance brought back happy memories of that afternoon.

“I had a nice chat with Merlin while he was waiting for you to get home,” said Morgana.

“Oh?” Arthur tried not to sound too interested.

“He’s a good lad,” said Morgana.

“Yeah, he is.”

“Funny, too.”

“Yeah.”

“And brainy, of course.”

“Yeah.”

“And a damn good kisser.”

“Yeah.”

Half a second too late, Arthur’s brain caught up with his mouth.

“I mean, not that I…obviously, I wouldn’t…wait.” He frowned. “How do _you_ know that?”

“I don’t,” said Morgana, smiling triumphantly. “I’ll have to take your word for it.”

Arthur went rigid. It was suddenly hard to breathe. “We’re not…I’m not…”

“Arthur, calm down!” Morgana put a hand on his arm. “It’s okay. In fact, it’s more than okay. I think it’s _brilliant.”_

Arthur blinked. “Really?”

“Really. I mean, how could I not? You seem so happy.”

Tentatively, Arthur smiled. “Yeah, I am.”

She hugged him. “And I’m happy for you, little brother.”

Arthur sighed in relief. He shouldn’t have been surprised. Of course, Morgana was happy for him. When had she ever shown a hint of homophobia? Merlin was right; Arthur needed to give his loved ones more credit.

“How did you know?” he asked.

“Arthur, your room is _right next to mine.”_

“What, you can hear us kissing through the wall?”

Morgana rolled her eyes. “No, but I can hear when you’re playing video games. So when you say you’re having a friend over to play _Zelda,_ and I don’t hear _Zelda,_ it’s a bit suspicious.”

“Oh.” Arthur felt ridiculous. After all the effort he and Merlin had put into keeping their relationship a secret, such a simple thing had given them away! And if Morgana had guessed, then…

“Do you think Dad suspects…?”

“I doubt it. He wasn’t even home the two times you’ve had Merlin over.”

Arthur nodded. That was why he’d chosen those days. But sooner or later, his father was bound to find out about Merlin’s visits, which would lead to questions Arthur didn’t know how to answer.

“How do you think he’ll take it?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” said Morgana. But there was worry in her eyes.

* * *

Merlin forgot about the map until the next morning, when he saw the unidentified book on his shelf. He pulled out his phone. The picture of the map was small and blurry, but he could still make out the symbol. It definitely matched the one on the book’s cover.

He zoomed out to look at the map as a whole. The layout of the buildings was completely different from the King’s Hollow he knew, but the physical landmarks were the same. He could see that the symbol marked a spot deep in the woods, just north of town.

Merlin glanced at his watch. It wasn’t even noon, and he’d already done most of his homework. He had time for a walk in the woods.

* * *

“I think something’s going on with Arthur,” said Lance.

Gwen glanced up from her menu. “Oh?”

“Yeah, he’s been acting weird all week. Like yesterday, practice ran a little late, and he started getting all anxious. But when I asked, he said he didn’t have anywhere else to be.”

“Hmm.”

Lance frowned. It was unlike Gwen to show so little interest in their friends. He’d been looking forward to speculating with her about Arthur’s strange behavior.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Sure. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Well, you seem kind of distracted. I thought you might be worrying about…you know…”

Gwen’s face darkened, and Lance wanted to kick himself. This was their first proper date since Elyan’s disappearance. Gwen was finally starting to act like her old self, and he’d upset her all over again.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s fine,” said Gwen. “Really, you don’t have to walk on eggshells all the time.”

Lance wanted to believe her, but the fact that she promptly retreated to the loo didn’t boost his confidence. He slumped over the table with a sigh. He’d always taken pride in his reputation as the best boyfriend in King’s Hollow, but now he was in way over his head. He needed a manual: _Caring for a Grieving Girlfriend for Dummies._

It would have been bad enough if there was an end in sight. But after two weeks, Lance had to ask himself the question he didn’t dare ask Gwen: what if Elyan was never found?

* * *

Merlin wasn’t answering his phone. Once this would have worried Gwaine, but now he knew Merlin was probably snogging Pendragon in a broom cupboard somewhere. And Gwen was on a date with Lance, leaving Gwaine with no one to hang out with.

_Better get used to it, now that you’re the fifth wheel._

The public library was closed on Sundays. He’d already seen the only halfway interesting film playing at the tiny cinema on High Street. He went to the park, thinking maybe he’d find someone to kick a football around with, but there was no one there except a couple of runny-nosed kids and their grandmother. That exhausted his list of things to do in King’s Hollow on a summer afternoon. After watching the kids chase squirrels for a bit, he started walking home—very, very slowly.

“I’ve got to get out of this town,” he muttered.

* * *

Merlin didn’t know what he was looking for, but this wasn’t it.

Where the strange symbol marked the map, he found a small clearing. In the middle of the clearing was a boulder, and sticking out of the top of the boulder was a sword.

Merlin was mystified. It looked like some sort of war memorial, but it made no sense to build a memorial out in the woods. Did they even make memorials like that at the time the map was made?

He moved closer. The sword looked authentic, though if it had been out there for centuries, it should have been covered in rust. And how had it come to be halfway buried in solid stone?

“Curiouser and curiouser,” he murmured.

There was writing carved into the side of the blade, but most of it was hidden under stone. Maybe reading it would shed some light on this mystery. Merlin grasped the hilt and pulled.

The sword didn’t budge, but Merlin’s world turned inside out.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos to my hardworking beta, Georgia Kate. :-)

Gaius was getting tea ready when Merlin came home. He didn’t ask where he’d been. Gaius had a theory about Merlin’s odd behavior of late, and if he was correct, then the boy would tell him when he was ready.

“Ah, good!” said Gaius. “You’re just in time to set the table.” He didn’t look up from the stove, but the tinkling of china told him Merlin was doing as he asked.

“Gaius? Can I ask you a really random question?”

Gaius turned around. Perhaps Merlin was ready to talk sooner than he’d expected. “Go ahead.”

“Do you believe in reincarnation?”

Gaius blinked. “That’s…a very random question indeed.” He thought carefully about his answer. “I try to keep an open mind about such things, but no. I don’t find reincarnation more convincing than any other theory pertaining to the afterlife.”

“Oh.” Merlin looked disappointed. “So you’ve never had a dream or anything that seemed like it might be a memory from a past life? Like maybe being a court physician in the Middle Ages, or something?”

Gaius shook his head, more puzzled than ever. The example struck him as oddly specific. Perhaps that was why it conjured a startlingly vivid mental image. He saw himself dressed in a brown robe, walking through castle corridors, administering herbal remedies to peasants and princes alike. Strange.

“I take it you’ve experienced something of that nature?” he asked.

“Maybe,” said Merlin. He didn’t elaborate. Gaius was intrigued, but he let the subject drop. He trusted Merlin to tell him what he needed to know, when he needed to know it.

* * *

After tea, Merlin went straight to his room and grabbed the book that had started everything. It looked exactly as it had before, but now Merlin recognized the text. It was the language of the Old Religion. The language of magic.

He sat down on his bed, shaking. What had happened to him?

The instant he touched Excalibur, it had all come back: Camelot, the Round Table, the war with Morgana. He was Merlin of Ealdor, servant to Prince Arthur and secret sorcerer, once more. It felt like waking from a dream. But when his head cleared, he was still in the woods outside King’s Hollow, and his memories of Merlin Ealdor, high school student, were as vivid and real as ever.

Merlin Ealdor thought he was going mad, but Merlin of Ealdor had a different theory.

_This is magic,_ he whispered. _This is a spell._

Even with his memories of Camelot, that was hard to believe. What spell could transport an entire city through time and space? It went way beyond anything Merlin of Ealdor had ever accomplished, and he was supposed to be the most powerful wizard of all time.

_The most powerful wizard of all time._ That alone made him doubt himself. It sounded like something a lonely kid would dream up. But if it were a fantasy, wouldn’t he have made himself more than a lowly servant? Why would he make Arthur in love with Gwen?

Arthur and Gwen. To high school Merlin, the idea was absurd. Gwen only had eyes for Lance, and Arthur would never betray his friend like that. Besides, did Arthur even like girls? But to Merlin, the servant, it was the thought of Arthur and Merlin together that was inconceivable.

Contradictory memories flashed through his mind: Arthur admitting he couldn’t stop thinking about Gwen; Arthur kissing Merlin; Morgana trying to kill Arthur with a cursed bracelet; Morgana teasing Arthur about his hair; Gwaine sleeping through biology class; Gwaine riding through Camelot in armor.

This couldn’t continue. If he had any sanity left, he’d lose it, going around and around in circles. He needed to figure out what was real and what wasn’t.

_All right, servant boy,_ he thought. _If you’re a wizard, then prove it._

His gaze fell on a pen lying on his desk. He pictured it rising into the air. Slowly, he reached out his hand.

_“Fleoge.”_ The word came to him as easily as breathing.

Nothing happened.

But if a spell could make him forget his memories of Camelot, then couldn’t it block his magic as well?

Merlin fell back onto his bed. Never, in either life, had he felt so confused.

* * *

Arthur’s conversation with Morgana put him in a daring mood. Monday morning, he barely glanced around the car park before pulling Merlin into his arms.

“Good morning!” he said.

Merlin leaned back enough to look at him with raised eyebrows. “Taking a bit of a risk, aren’t you?”

“What do you mean?” Arthur asked, blinking innocently. “I’m just hugging my mate. Nothing gay about that.”

“Right. Your hugs with Lance and Percival and Leon last this long, do they?”

Reluctantly, Arthur took a step back. “Fine. Meet me after class, and we’ll go someplace where I can hug you for as long as I please.”

He expected this to get a giggle, or at least a smile, but instead, Merlin frowned.

“Is everything okay?” Arthur asked.

“Yeah, sure. I was just thinking…Why don’t we go for a walk in the woods?”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think it’s time to reveal that this story was heavily inspired by the American TV show _Once Upon a Time_. I actually thought about categorizing it as a Merlin/OUAT crossover, but decided against it because a) no characters from OUAT actually appear, and b) doing so would have made it way too easy to figure out the big mystery.
> 
> As always, special thanks goes to my awesome beta, Georgia Kate. ;-)

Something had changed. Merlin was quieter than usual, more serious, even… _older_ , somehow. And now he was leading Arthur into the woods for reasons unknown.

“You’re being awfully mysterious,” said Arthur.

“It’s part of my charm.”

Arthur chuckled nervously. Merlin was right, but at that moment, Arthur wished he was more transparent. It would have made this walk less stressful. Try as he might, he could only think of one reason why Merlin would look so solemn: he was going to break up with him.

 _Don’t be daft,_ he told himself. _Why would he do that?_

Maybe things weren’t going as well as Arthur thought. Maybe he’d done something wrong without realizing it. Or maybe Merlin was just tired of sneaking around. Maybe he wanted a boyfriend who wasn’t afraid to touch him in public.

Merlin stopped at the edge of a small clearing. Arthur was so distracted by all the maybes that he nearly crashed into him.

“I, er, wanted to show you this,” Merlin said nervously.

“Oh!” Arthur stared at the monument in the middle of the clearing for several seconds. Then he gave up and asked, “What is it?”

“It’s a sword,” said Merlin. “In a stone.”

Arthur snorted. “Thanks. That clears things up.”

Inwardly, he breathed a sigh of relief. So Merlin just wanted to show him some sculpture. That raised more questions than it answered, but at least he wasn’t ditching Arthur.

“I was walking by myself yesterday, and I just stumbled upon it,” said Merlin. “I tried to pull it out, but it wouldn’t budge. Not for me, anyway.”

“What do you mean, not for you?”

“I mean, I couldn’t get it out, but maybe someone else could.”

Arthur didn’t know if that was meant to be a challenge, but he took it as such. “Let’s see,” he said, grinning.

He made a show of it, standing atop the boulder with one foot on either side of the blade, gripping the hilt with both hands. Though he’d never held a sword in his life, the sun-warmed metal felt oddly familiar. But it wasn’t until he pulled, and the blade slid out, that the dam in his mind burst.

He stumbled off the rock. Merlin was saying something, but Arthur couldn’t hear him. He was swimming in a sea of rediscovered memories. The castle. The city walls. His father on the throne. Morgana casting a spell. And through it all, Merlin. Merlin polishing his armor, making his bed, bringing him dinner. Merlin following him everywhere, no matter the distance or the danger, or whether or not Arthur told him to come. Merlin, the faithful manservant. Merlin, the best friend he never acknowledged.

When the fog of memories cleared, he was still standing in the clearing, and a very different Merlin was staring at him.

“You remember,” Merlin breathed. “You remember everything, don’t you?”

Too stunned to speak, Arthur nodded.

Merlin laughed hoarsely. “Well, now I know I’m not mad. That’s something.”

Arthur had so many questions, he didn’t know what to ask first. “How…?”

“Magic,” said Merlin. “It has to be magic. As for who did it, and why…no idea.”

Arthur’s heart sank. “Morgana,” he whispered.

Merlin squeezed his hand. “I seriously doubt it was her. First of all, I don’t think she’s that powerful. Second, why would she want a world without magic?”

Arthur nodded. In a way, King’s Hollow was exactly the opposite of what Morgana wanted. That was the hardest contradiction to wrap his head around. One the one hand, there was Morgana, his big sister, who loved fashion and Jane Austen and terrible American television. On the other hand, there was Morgana, the traitor, the witch, the madwoman who tried to destroy everything Arthur held dear.

“Are you okay?” Merlin asked.

“I don’t know,” Arthur admitted. “I’m experiencing some major cognitive dissonance here.”

Merlin raised his eyebrows. “’Cognitive dissonance’? Where’d you learn a term like that?”

“I do pick up a book occasionally, you know.”

He’d learned the concept from a book he’d leafed through while organizing the psychology section of the library. Had that really only been a fortnight ago? Having a lifetime of memories shoved into his head all at once had warped his sense of time.

“So what happens now?” Merlin asked.

Arthur scratched his head. His first instinct was to ask his father for advice, but what could he tell them? All Uther knew about sorcery was how to kill those who practiced it.

“Gaius,” said Arthur. “We’ll take the sword to him. Maybe once he gets his memories back, he’ll know how to break the spell.”

“Good idea, but…” Merlin shifted nervously. “That’s not exactly what I meant. I meant, what happens with us?”

“Us?”

Merlin looked at him timidly, almost fearfully. “Are we still…I mean, do you still want to…you know…be with me?”

Oh.

Arthur answered by kissing him fiercely.

It was the first kiss to carry the weight of their entire history together, in both worlds, and it was electrifying. Arthur held Merlin close, hoping his actions conveyed everything he couldn’t put into words.

“This changes nothing,” he said when they parted. “Not when it comes to you and me.”

“But what about Gwen?”

Arthur thought about it. He remembered being in love with Gwen, just as he remembered half a dozen boyhood crushes in both worlds. But that was all it was: a memory. When he thought of Gwen now, he felt fondness and respect, but not the intense longing she had once inspired in him. All that had been transferred to the boy in his arms.

“Gwen will always have a place in my heart,” he said. “But anything more than friendship between us is in the past. You’re my present.”

Merlin’s answering smile was so beautiful that Arthur had no choice but to kiss him again. And then once more.

Merlin giggled against his mouth. “Hard to believe we’ve ended up here, after the way things started off. Do you remember the day we met?”

“You mean in Camelot? Of course. I nearly killed you.”

“But we became friends in the end,” Merlin said thoughtfully. “That seems to be a pattern with us.”

“Well, we took the ‘friends’ part a bit further this time around.”

“Still, it’s an awfully big coincidence. Do you think something drew us to one another? Like some trace of our old memories?”

“Maybe. I did wonder how it was possible to fall in—” Arthur stopped short. “To become attached to someone so quickly,” he amended.

A grin spread slowly across Merlin’s face. “That’s not what you were going to say.”

“Yes, it was.”

“No, it wasn’t. You were going to say, _to fall in love._ You love me!”

“I didn’t say that!”

Arthur tried to literally run away, but Merlin chased after him.

“Admit it! Admit you love me!”

“No!”

Arthur didn’t get very far. Laughing wildly, Merlin reached out and grabbed him around the waist, and they both tumbled to the ground.

“Get off!” Arthur yelled, but he was laughing too now.

“Not until you say it!”

“All right, all right!” Arthur collapsed on his back. “I, Arthur Pendragon, crown prince of Camelot and captain of the St. Augustine’s Academy football team, am hopelessly in love with Merlin Ealdor. Happy now?”

“Very,” said Merlin. He gave Arthur a rather sloppy kiss before adding, “I love you, too, you know.”

Arthur pulled him to the ground next to him. They stayed that way for some time, limbs intertwined, just kissing. Their past was a confusing mess, their future uncertain, but Arthur decided not to worry about any of that for now. Right now, it was just him and Merlin, and it was perfect.

Arthur’s mobile rang. Without breaking the kiss, he pulled the phone out of his pocket and tossed it away. Merlin burst out laughing.

“I hope that wasn’t anything important!”

“Whatever. They can leave a voicemail.”

When Merlin’s phone rang a minute later, he was more practical, and just hit the “Ignore” button. But then Arthur’s phone rang again. Then Merlin’s again. Then both simultaneously.

“What the hell?” said Arthur.

Merlin went rigid. “Oh no,” he breathed. “Do you think…?”

“What?”

Merlin sat up. “I think we’d better answer.”

Grumbling, Arthur retrieved his phone. “Dad” flashed across the tiny screen.

“Hello?”

“Arthur?” His father sounded downright panicked. “Arthur, where are you?”

“In the woods. I, er, went for a walk.”

“Has anything…odd happened?”

Arthur looked back at Merlin. He looked worried, but not surprised or confused. Arthur wondered how he’d known Arthur’s father would call with vague but urgent-sounding questions. Then it clicked.

Arthur’s jaw dropped. “You remembered, too?”

Uther’s silence was answer enough. This could only mean one thing.

King’s Hollow was waking up.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to my wonderful beta, Georgia Kate!

They ran all the way back to town.

“I don’t understand,” said Arthur. “Why did everyone suddenly remember Camelot? Why now?”

“The sword,” said Merlin. “You must have triggered something when you pulled it out of the stone. I only touched it the other day, so I just got my own memories back.”

Merlin couldn’t believe his luck. He’d brought only Arthur to the sword because he feared too many people remembering at once would cause a panic. In trying to minimize the chaos, he’d somehow maximized it. 

“This is good, right?” said Arthur. “Everyone remembering?”

Merlin looked at him doubtfully. “Are you happier knowing?”

“No,” Arthur admitted. “Not happier, exactly. But the truth is always preferable to a lie, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know. Sometimes people keep secrets for good reasons.”

“Well, anyway, the cat’s out of the bag now. Let’s see what my father intends to do about it.”

Halfway to Pendragon Manor, they ran into Gwen, Lance, and Gwaine running in the opposite direction.

“There you are!” said Gwen. “Where have you two been? I called you three times—”

“You and half the town,” said Merlin. “Sorry. I’m a little overwhelmed here.”

“Aren’t we all,” said Lance. “I thought I was going mad at first. Then I saw the look on Gwen’s face, and I thought, we can’t _both_ be going mad.”

He kept looking from Arthur to Gwen, as though trying to gauge their reactions to one another. Meanwhile, Gwen was staring worriedly at Merlin, and Arthur was avoiding looking at anyone.

“We’d better get back to Pendragon’s house,” said Gwaine.

That got Arthur’s attention. “My house? Why?”

“Emergency town meeting,” said Gwen. “Practically all of King’s Hollow is gathered in your garden right now.”

Minutes later, Merlin discovered that she wasn’t exaggerating. It really did look like the entire town was standing outside Pendragon Manor. Agravaine and his men were struggling to keep the meeting from turning into a full-blown riot. Up on the porch, Uther was talking, but no one could hear him over the din. And standing beside him, looking lost and scared out of her mind, was Morgana.

Merlin’s heart sank. This was no town meeting. This was a trial.

“Why isn’t she in handcuffs?” someone shouted. “Why isn’t she in jail?”

“Sod that,” someone else called. “Why doesn’t someone shoot the bitch?”

Arthur looked like he might be sick. Merlin squeezed his hand, trying to be reassuring, though at this point he wasn’t sure what that meant. Hadn’t they both wanted Morgana dead in another life?

The gesture seemed to snap Arthur back to reality. He pushed his way to the front of the crowd, whispered a few words to Agravaine, then joined his father on the porch. A moment later, a constable handed him a megaphone.

“Everyone, please try to remain calm,” said Arthur. “This is a strange, confusing situation. Let’s not do anything rash.”

“What’s rash about it?” the man who’d wanted Morgana shot demanded. “She’s been terrorizing us for years!” There were many shouts of assent.

“That was in another life,” said Arthur. “A lot has changed since then.”

“And why has it changed? Because of her! She brought us all here and took our memories away!”

“No.” Morgana spoke for the first time. “It wasn’t me.”

Uther snatched the megaphone out of Arthur’s hand. “I doubt Morgana had anything to do with this spell. It accomplished the exact opposite of what she desired: a world without magic.”

To Merlin’s astonishment, Gwen stepped forward next.

“What about all the people who’ve gone missing lately?” she asked. “Who else could have done that?”

Merlin’s eyes widened. He hadn’t even thought about that.

“I couldn’t!” said Morgana. “My powers don’t work here.”

At this, the crowd erupted again.

“A likely story.”

“Well, isn’t that convenient!”

“Prove it!”

“Prove it?” Morgana looked close to tears. “How can I prove what I _can’t_ do?”

It was a valid point, but no one was listening. Merlin squirmed. He knew Morgana was telling the truth, but he couldn’t vouch for her without revealing that he had had magic, too.

“If I still had magic, would I be standing here, taking this abuse?” Morgana shouted, eyes blazing. For one moment, she was the witch Merlin knew and hated once more. But then a rock whizzed past her head, and she was just a frightened teenager again.

“ENOUGH!” The megaphone screeched horribly as Uther shouted into it, finally silencing the crowd. “The suspect is innocent until proven guilty. That was how we did things in Camelot, and it’s how we do things here.”

Merlin resisted the urge to roll his eyes. It had only been the way things were done in Camelot when Uther willed it.

“Morgana will get a fair trial,” he continued. “If she is behind any of this, she will pay. But until then, no one will lay a finger on her.”

The mayor turned to his brother-in-law. “Agravaine, please escort Morgana to her bedroom. She’s under house arrest until we can arrange a trial.”

Morgana didn’t resist as her uncle took her by the arm and led her back into the house, but right before the door closed, she turned and gave the crowd a look that made Merlin’s blood run cold.

“So that’s it?” said Gwaine. “Morgana’s grounded until Daddy figures out what to do with her, and the rest of us are expected to just go about our business as usual?”

“What else can we do?” asked Gwen.

“For starters, we can start looking for a way to get everyone back to Camelot,” said Merlin.

Gwen surveyed the crowd. “Are you sure everyone will want to go back?”

Merlin blinked. “Of course. Why wouldn’t they?”

“Well, personally, I like being able to vote,” said Gwen. “And having indoor plumbing.”

“Most of these people were peasants in Camelot,” Lance added. “They’re better off here, no question.”

Merlin realized they were right. Anyone without magic would choose King’s Hollow over Camelot in a heartbeat. Only two people would want to go back: himself and Morgana.

“But this place is so boring!” Gwaine burst out.

Merlin smiled weakly. Make that three people.

* * *

Morgana couldn’t stop shaking. She was used to seeing hate and fear in people’s eyes when they looked at her, but before, it had always been an impotent hate. She was the last high priestess of the old religion; none could touch her. Now she was defenseless.

At first, she had thought it was just another nightmare. She’d been lounging on her bed, reading _Northanger Abbey._ She must have dozed off without realizing it. But the more she thought about it, the less that made sense. Even her most vivid nightmares were just flashes, snapshots. This was a complete story. Then she’d gone downstairs and found her father looking like the world was crumbling around him.

“Are you hurt, my lady?” asked Agravaine.

“No,” she whispered. Then his words sank in. “’My lady’?”

Agravaine dropped to one knee before her, head bowed.

“You may not have your powers here, my queen, but it will take more than this spell to rob you of your most devoted servant.”


End file.
